


a lover's notebook

by myefflorescence



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Boys In Love, Character Study, Developing Friendships, Developing Relationship, Dorks in Love, F/M, Fluff, Fluff without Plot, Friendship, M/M, Male-Female Friendship, Platonic Relationships, Romance, Slow Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-13
Updated: 2020-01-13
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:15:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22240912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myefflorescence/pseuds/myefflorescence
Summary: she's right : the idea isn't so bad after all // 16.12.19
Relationships: Aomine Daiki & Momoi Satsuki, Aomine Daiki/Momoi Satsuki, Midorima Shintarou & Momoi Satsuki, Midorima Shintarou & Takao Kazunari, Midorima Shintarou/Takao Kazunari
Comments: 1
Kudos: 20





	a lover's notebook

“Midorin, it’s late.” 

He doesn’t reply. 

Momoi chooses not to comment further and quietly settles down beside Midorima. Silence dawns upon them once again, merely disrupted by the wind’s gentle brushes against the silky curtains, the oddly satisfying whirring of the CD player that no longer played its content. It’s dark out on the streets, but it’s even darker inside her small bedroom where the only source of light is brightly emitting from her laptop, a familiar figure frozen on the screen. They are bound to ruin their eyesight sooner or later at this rate (or, in his case, worsen it), but they are far beyond the point of caring. There are crumbled papers on the floor – drafts that never made the cut with handwritten details too messy to read, and even more scattered around the table in a way that would usually send them both panicking at the untidiness. 

Amidst it all lays a beautifully crafted journal, hard cover the color of the sea and papers softly tinted yellow that feel textured to the touch, classically minimalistic. It is filled one third of the way with elaborate headlines, information strewn across the pages in neat handwriting and key points highlighted with colorful markers. Upon opening, you’d find photos of a certain dark-haired boy every flip or so. Even when captured he never remains stoic – he is always smiling, always laughing, constantly on the move. Sometimes he is photographed alone, other times he is accompanied by his friends, his teammates, his rivals. The spectrum of his personality is vividly portrayed and different sides of him are put in contrast against one another, his usual playfulness versus determination harder than steel when on court giving off the impression of a lively, energetic, proper young man. 

Seemingly transparent, yet utterly complicated is how Midorima perceives Kazunari Takao.

Momoi would tell him otherwise, of course, but she is Momoi – caring, insightful, _expressive_ Momoi and Midorima is none of those. He never knows the right words to say, the right moves to make, the right way to show that he cares. He is academically intelligent and physically talented, but he is awkward and clumsy and so oblivious that more often than not, he unwilling ends up hurting those around him — those he loves. He doesn’t think he’s entirely at fault, though. Seriously, it must take some kind of super psychic power in order to understand someone and how Momoi can do it so effortlessly will always remain the mystery of the century to him. Perhaps it really is a women’s intuition thing? Momoi has said it so many times that it annoyed him. He’s never believed her before, but recently he finds himself doubting his own belief.

Somehow, she knows of his true feelings before he even realizes them himself.

Somehow, she knows how to comfort him, how to ease his insecurities and fears.

Somehow, she knows exactly what he should do. 

Acting upon his feelings has been difficult, but in the end, it was rewarding and Midorima slept much better these days without having to hide the emotions that threatened to spill from his heart, his mouth whenever he’s in the presence of Takao. He should have known that nothing could possibly be so easy, though – he should have seen it coming miles away. 

He always does something wrong.

“I’m too insensitive,” he told Momoi in all of his frustration and distress, knowing what exactly the problem was and yet never the solution to it. 

And that was how they found themselves spending the night away, packed to the brim with every information ever existed on Kazunari Takao in order to help Midorima understand his…well, now boyfriend, better. 

Truth be told, it’s a little creepy at first, but he trusts Momoi for certain reasons.

Besides, once there is no more details left to analyze and no more videos to watch, he actually feels quite proud at the result of their handiwork.

“...I’m going to get more coffee. Would you like some, Midorin?”

Torn from his train of thoughts, he ponders a little over her offer, then shakes his head with a quiet “No, thank you.” 

Momoi smiles and leaves the room.

When she returns with a cup of steaming hot coffee in her hand, its aroma strong enough to clear her head even before taking a sip, Midorima is still in the same chair he has been in for the past few hours. She sets the drink down and wordlessly takes her place beside him. Oddly enough, they both find the silence that quickly fills the space between them not unpleasant to stay in – a peaceful tranquility that serves as proof of their solid trust and mutual understanding. It makes sense: they’ve known each other for this long, after all. 

Letting out a heaving sigh, the green-haired ace slipped his fingers underneath the rim of his glasses, rubbing his eyes with his knuckles. Then, he proceeds to take off the glasses completely – an action that has Momoi staring in wonder and pouting in annoyance because, really, _Midorin has lashes that can make a girl cry with envy_. She watches, transfixed on the way they flutter ever so slightly when his emerald gaze softens, which prompts Momoi to follow his line of sight next, finding out the source of his affection. His eyes are glued to the image of Takao on screen, who adorns a boyish smile so widely radiant that turns his silver hues to crescent moons and shows off a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it dimple on his left cheek. Momoi never looks hard enough to notice, but somehow, Midorima has always known it was there even though Takao never told him.

The vulnerability of being in love, she thinks, finding her friend’s soft side strangely endearing. She decides that it suits him. 

“Get some rest, Midorin,” Momoi gently nudges, cruelly turns the laptop off and only then Midorima finally tears his gaze away, albeit still with reluctance. 

“Takao-kun will be here in the morning to pick you up. You don’t want him to see you all disheveled like this, do you?” 

That seems to do the trick. Nodding wordlessly as she ushers him to bed, Midorima finally complies, feeling the lack of sleep taking toll on his exhausted body. He is tired, but content about what he’s achieved. Tomorrow will be a better day, he thinks, already informed of Cancer’s rank and gotten hold of his lucky item. Tomorrow, he will definitely make things right.

“Momoi,” he calls out as she hums in reply and busies her hands with the load of papers, fueled by caffeine. 

“…Thank you.” 

He’s been saying that to her a lot recently, but he wasn’t quite sure if a simple line like that was even close to how grateful he actually felt to have her around. Still, it is Momoi after all – he knows she understands him all the same. 

Momoi perks up from her work and beams at her friend, ever compassionate. 

“You’re welcome, Midorin!" 

* * *

“Remind me why we are doing this again, Momoi?” Midorima sighs in exasperation, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose with taped fingers. They are barely thirty minutes in and, don’t get him wrong, being surrounded by Takao-related things is wonderful, he just doesn’t understand the details the way Momoi does. 

“To help you know Takao-kun better, of course!” She chirps, cheerful as always, and gives him an encouraging look. “It’s a cute idea, don’t you think? Learning about your partner and slowly filling the pages up. Imagine the day where you’ll be able to finish an _entire_ notebook!” 

Midorima gives her words a thought. 

…Okay, he hates that she’s right. The idea _is_ endearing. 

They resume their work in silence, but Midorima can’t concentrate. Something is distracting him – and said object is directly in front of them, albeit its appearance pales in comparison beside the journal that Momoi has gifted him. This notebook is cheap, probably bought at a convenience store, the cover flimsy and it’s obvious that the thing has been used for quite a long time. Colorful memos stick out from the edges and he already knows what the content looks like: the first half is full of words, detailed graphs and statistics because the person they are made for is constantly changing, constantly growing. The other half is just random facts Momoi’s picked up over the years she knew that boy, of his quirks and antics, his likes and dislikes, strengths and weaknesses. There’s no more space left to write on and she already has a replacement for it, but Momoi insists on using the original thing as an example for their own research. 

On the cover, plastered on a white label in smudged ink is her childish handwriting of a familiar name.

 _Aomine Daiki_. 

“So…” Midorima spurts out, unable to keep his questions in mind. “You think it’s nice to have something like this dedicated to someone we love?”

“Precisely!” Momoi replies in a heartbeat, the answer comes to her so naturally that she doesn’t even have to think about it.

“...What does that make you and Aomine, then?”

Her pencil drops onto the table.

One second passes. 

Then two.

Then three.

“Midoriiiiiin!” She prolongs his name in a groan. “It’s not like that with me and Dai-chan!” 

Seriously, how can he think that but not see that she is head over heels for Kuroko?!

She knows the answer, of course, Momoi is smart like that, but she refuses to acknowledge it.

_Because Midorima only sees facts._

And all the facts point out to _one thing._

“Why not?” He questions, keen on finding out a fitting explanation. “You claim to love Kuroko, but not once has you left Aomine’s side. I see many similarities between your relationship and me and Takao’s. Before we started dating, that’s it.” 

The more Midorima speaks, the more Momoi wants the earth to just open up and swallow her whole. 

This was _not_ how she has imagined their session would go.

When she doesn’t reply, Midorima takes it as his cue to continue. “Well, you and Aomine also bicker a lot. He gets on your nerves occasionally, the same way Takao does on mine…Still, you never pushed him away. And, you also have a notebook for him. In fact, I’m envious of how open you can be of your affection towards him.” 

He’s never had that luxury.

“I’m not…affectionate towards him,” she murmurs, reverting into a shell he never knows she possesses and averting her gaze the same way she is the conversation.

“Seriously, Midorin, you chose the worst time to be emotionally intelligent.”

 _I'm not_ , Midorima wants to say, but bites back the retort. Her refusal to talk speaks volumes – and suddenly, he thinks that maybe feelings aren’t that hard to understand after all.


End file.
